We were rock stars from the start. Then about six months into it he started getting mean. There is no other word for it… just mean. Being the fighter I am, I refused to give in to his bullish behaviors. One day, he cracked me hard enough in the face I knocked me off my feet. He has only hit me the once. He has shoved me twice since then. I fight back. Truth be told, I don’t think he expected that. I need to say that I do not drink, smoke, do drugs. I’m a pretty keen, level headed chick for the most part. I’m a Taurus and when cornered, I let my horns jab back. He, on the other hand, smokes enough pot in one month that he spent more than our rent money.
That was the start of my disintegration. Little by little I have been blown to tiny fragmented bits of what and who I used to be. I think she is still in there. I mean, I feel her when he says something. I feel her rise up. I feel her crawl her way out of the dark pit that has become my innards. I feel her scratch and claw at the base of my throat, ready to pounce and take flight. I am not afraid of him. I’ll fight to death if I have to. That’s who I am. But, I know it is a no win situation.
A friend recently asked me, “What are you fighting for? Equality in the relationship or a way out?”…. Wow. Ka-Pow. Powerful question, such a powerful question. Her word cold cocked me, catching me right in the stomach. In that lower, hollow, solar plexus. Right where the former me resides. Her question was like an coal miner whose soul purpose was to chip away at the shining diamond I have stuffed deep inside.